I never meant to abandon this creation. To leave it like a baby in the bull rushes. To slip away in the silence of night, never looking back.

I made this video a while back, about wrapping up the Divine Feminine Project. The thing is… it’s less about wrapping it up, than having it all come together. The Divine Feminine Project is now too much of simply my day to day life. I feel it embodied in me. It’s no longer an abstract concept. It’s no longer something to set time aside for. No longer superimposed, our skeletons are fused. Bone of bone. Flesh of flesh. A woman reborn in the image of her creation.

I feel a deep change in this avatar of mine, this online self. I wish for this to be more of an extension of a being rooted in the physical. I find peace in simple, every day tasks. I long to let any unnecessary distractions slip away. The internet is such a magnificently powerful resource.

I am craving movement in a rooted way. I am feeling the strength of my own being. Of listening to what she needs. Of connecting with my body. Of finding community, freedom, trust and resilience.

I am out here in a beautiful cabin, hauling in firewood. Waking up at 6 am, tending to the dogs, the fire, beginning my day with yoga and meditation. Concentrating on how I am nourishing myself. Learning financial mindfulness, how to live within modest means. I am connecting with such inspiring, beautiful people who get to the core of things. Who care about life far deeper than the surface level. Who want to truly be happy. Who wish to reflect, grow and continue evolving.

My project has entirely surpassed my vision for it by organically integrating with my being.

Thank you all for joining in with me on this magnificent journey. I have learned so much. I feel parts of my soul that had wandered off, are now more fully integrated. I am finding my strength in my ability to be soft. In the bravery to purr as well as roar. I hope this finds you all well, empowered and continually tuning in to your own Divine Femininity.

This question posits itself, rearranged into statement form, from across the dinner table. In the grocery check out line. In all my memories of preschool, high school, failed attempts at higher education. Are you letting them in? No, you do not let them in. Are you a rock, an island? You are so mysterious, so indie and artsy, sitting alone with your Murakami novel and your chai latte.

Of course I wanted to belong. I wanted to let them in. I never felt let in myself. I tongued the password against my teeth, brushed my finger against the doorbell. I could get in. They’d let me in. I could say all the right things. And yet, I hadn’t found it. The place where no magic word existed, where all it took was a willingness and an intention. I didn’t want to “pass”, or fake it, or say all the right things. I wanted to belong.

I have finally found it. And I almost cannot explain it, for it’s more of a state of being than a physical place. I believe you love me. I believe you find me worthwhile, maybe even interesting. I believe that I have something real and genuine to contribute. I believe that I can throw my ideas of success and failure out the window, and instead treat each moment, each person I encounter, to the love I was previously too afraid to unleash.

At times I stand in the middle of this room of welcomeness, the steady hustle and bustle of people coming in and out, marveling at it all. No one is shining the spot light on me, waiting for me to fail. No one is plotting my demise. In fact, everyone else is so engaged, so excited, by their own inspirations, plans and ideas, that they are engrossed in what they’re doing. Sometimes I stop what I’m doing to join in with a friend, or else I smile and shake my head, too deeply involved in my current project. Sometimes others naturally fall in line with what I’m doing and I’m astounded by the quick work we make of things.

Am I inviting others in?

This question almost makes me laugh. For so long I’ve been worrying about belonging, that I forgot I could invite others in. That I’m qualified to do that. That all it takes is asking, to be the asker. “Come play with us!” I want to say. “Come join in the fun!”

There are no secret club houses. No exclusions or whispers behind fingers about passersby.

No. I’m in. You’re in. We’re all in.

All that outdated high school shit about being cool enough is over. There is a new paradigm and we are creating it by allowing it, by believing it and accepting it.

I thank everyone who invites me in, everyone who recognizes the shy little hedgehog I can be sometimes. Who believe in themselves enough to understand that I can sometimes withdraw out of pure habit. That relationship maintenance used to be a necessary to-do list item, not a joyful activity. Simply because I believed it was something I needed to maintain. Keep their attention, keep them interested. Make ’em laugh.

Oh, I release that. I release that old way where keeping up appearances, appearing to be social, was what I clung to. I was too busy playing offense that I realized it was never a competitive game.

I thank myself, and the wild, confident creature I am becoming. The coyote aligned with the moon, unafraid to wake the neighbors.

There was no place I’d rather be. Your heartbeat the soundtrack to my expanding universe, your musical voice lulling me. Bone of your bone. Flesh of your flesh. I came from you, grew out of you, jutting like an extra limb, a body part you never knew you were missing, until you felt the urgency of me sprouting inside you.

I was a jealous creation, inhabiting the home of your body. I was you, from you. We spent those months in the deepest of meditations. We dove into one another’s souls. I was utterly submerged. I would have stayed there forever if the sharp light hadn’t called to me.

I liked to sit upwards, straight, inside you. This made the doctors nervous. But you knew. You knew you could speak to me in that sing-song voice, ask me to flip. That I’d do anything for you. No interference needed.

And so, I flipped. I flipped like a dolphin, playful and eager to show off her human tricks. There was no time to hear the applause. I felt them coming, the frenzied energy currents, drawing me, back and forth and back again. I could feel a great shift. A thing you read to me about, late at night, with my father asleep beside you. Countless books on the great event, The Birth.

I gave in and trusted. I knew not what would come next, only that everything would be forever changed.

The music of the heart beat drum and your laughter suddenly uprooted, now replaced with harsh breath and wails. I was doing this to you? I never wanted to exit, never dreamed of it. How I longed to stay inside, where there was no pain, where you sang to me, whispered secrets, giggled joyfully when I kicked.

The waves came for me, pulled me, dragged me out from inside you. My body pushed and pulled, arms and legs contorting to strange shapes. Fingers poked and prodded me, yanked me, and I tumbled out in a jumbled tangle.

The light! It stung my eyes, speckled my vision with frenzied purple polka dots. I sputtered and coughed, the aftermath of the exodus still thick in my nostrils, still clogging my mouth. Strange instruments vacuumed it out and I heard a wail so monstrous I barely realized it was my own. Was this the language of this strange new world? It burst forth from me, a will of its own. I braved it for you.

It seemed lifetimes before I was handed to you. You pressed me against you and the faucet of yelps and wails shut off. I was silent and still and oh…there was the heartbeat! Your heartbeat, fainter now, but still there, beat in my ears. I nuzzled your soft, warm skin.

And so there I was, a bundle in your arms. The ecstasy of you doting on me. You and my father, broad arms and gentle words. You rocked me, held me, sang to me. No longer of one body but yet, oh still so close. I drank of your lifeblood. I suckled at your breasts. My every need attended. Why were we severed? I could not understand. I soon grew and gazed intently at you as you taught me. Observed the shape of your lips, the vowel and consonant sounds you formed into fluid sentences. I pressed my tiny hands against your throat, felt the vibrations. All day, all night, I swam in the sea of your beautiful, sing-song voice.

The globe of her belly swelled. When the ninth full moon came, she felt as if she, herself, had swallowed Luna. Full moon. Full belly. She had always been proud of her flat, tanned stomach. She bared it on beaches, flaunting the taut, youthful skin. She’d stop to chat with the muchachos. She’d yawn and stretch like a cat in the sunshine and the local boys shivered with longing when they caught a glance of bare belly peeking out as her shirt shimmied upwards.

If you were to dissect it, she imagined you’d find a panoramic cross section of the universe. Milky way, star clusters, comets and planets dancing. She wondered which would align on the night her baby would choose to enter and merge with this world. She whispered to her belly as if it were an oracle. She revered the life within it, knowing it contained more than she could yet remember. She brushed her long, thick, black hair. She rubbed coconut oil on the stretched out skin, on her belly, thighs and hips while Jose massaged the soles of her feet. He chittered nervously about names, about how beautiful this little one would be. “Are you ok?” he would ask her constantly, adjusting the pillows behind her back, pressing a wet wash cloth against her skin. While she was pregnant, he was beside himself with passionate allegiance for her. He folded before her like a servant, reverent and awestruck. He fretted and fussed over her like a pesky housewife. She shooed him away compassionately, sending him on errands for the softest linens to lie on, for the sweetest mangoes to slice. He was a knight, slaying dragons, fighting battles, completing conquests for his queen.

She inhabited a sense of self, a rootedness that she had never known. She was entrusted with the well-being of this shrouded little creature and yet she knew that it was to be handed directly from the Divine to her arms. Her only ability was to shower it with love and trust in its purpose of unfolding divinity upon this world.

Isabella’s sister flocked around her, like a chorus of songbirds. She was the youngest and yet the first to be pregnant. She was barely twenty two and suddenly seemed such a powerful woman, a sorceress.

Late at night she slipped away to be alone by the ocean, just her and the world inside her. She slipped out from under the thin, cotton sheets of her bed and down to the shore. She let the waves lap at her toes. She sat farther back on the sand and lay looking at the stars. “Where are you from, Lunita? Which star is your home?” she would ask. Sometimes she would dance a dance that looked more like a magical ceremony, the movements flowing through her to the music of the tides.

“When you are born, little ones, I will rock you like the tides rock the ships. And what moves the tides? Mama Moon of course. You, Luna, you are the mover and the moved, one in the same. You are the fish who dives beneath the storms on the surface of the sea. You will be my Pisces, shape shifting goddess.” I will teach you and you will teach me.

Thank you, beautiful beings, bearers of light, for joining me on this journey.

Over the span of these several weeks, I had more healing to do than I even realized from the get go. All of the divine feminine themes have presented their own, unique set of things to learn and focus on.

Motherhood hits me deeply. You see, my own mother was one of the great loves of my life. I had always loved her so deeply, been in awe of her, wanted her approval, appreciated everything she did. When she was diagnosed with breast cancer, a part of me deadened itself. In order to keep going, keep putting one foot in front of the other, I stuffed things away. I shut down. I couldn’t breathe. I had remembered how the very day before she told me, in her matter of fact way of dealing with difficult things, that I had specifically thought I didn’t know what I’d do without her. How appreciative I was of her. Her diagnosis felt like the universe’s way of slapping me in the face.

She died in 2009 and the night of her death brought so many deep understandings within me. And yet, even so, I still feel that part of me afraid to fully re-awaken. The truth is, at my core, I am (and we all are), boundless love. I hardened my heart whenever I thought I needed to in order to survive, but the emotional, bleeding heart, sensitive, loving me is the true me. It always has been. I feel like full on weeping when I see an animal die or when I hear about how much human beings suffer. I often feel joy and happiness bubble up inside of me, for the smallest of reasons, or for no reason at all. I often feel soul connection love for strangers, even those who have slighted me. I love deeply and fully.

Tonight I sat with my mom’s picture, looked into her eyes, those piercing, yet gentle, brown eyes and allowed myself to cry, seemingly endlessly. To keep awakening that part of me, that part that needs to feel, needs it to be ok to feel so much love.

These past few weeks I’ve allowed myself to admit the fullness of just how much I desire to be a mother in the future. I feel it’s one of my highest callings. I have been studying births, so interested in the spiritual transformation women undergo in becoming a mother. I feel an active yearning in my own womb and yet I know that now is the time to nourish the foundation for future mamahood.

I made this video about exploring motherhood and then this other, follow-up video as my relationship to this project began to shift. I felt the pull to connect to these themes in a way that goes beyond the literal, the analytical. I put my fingers to the keyboard and saw what came out. Over the next couple days, I will be sharing these pieces.

What are your own feelings on motherhood? What is your relationship to your mother? How do these affect your attitude towards the divine femininity within you?

I’m shimmying through this project completely at my own pace, which means I get to make the rules, and the rules right now are: I am devoting another week to spending more time with exploring my sexual self. I feel like I’m settling into various aspects of it, and by doing so, healing so many other connects aspects of myself.

Last week I focused on activating the sacral chakra, of awakening that creative, emotional, sexual energy. Using the ClaryCalm essential oil blend and drinking the Women’s Energy tea were some of my favorite aspects – I truly felt like I was nourishing an aspect of myself that I had previously ignored.

This project has been such a fascinating adventure for me. Challenging? Yes. But if I ever tell you I don’t like a challenge, I’m probably just having a pouty, defeated kind of a day. Because oh, how I do love a good challenge. Namely, the ones I’ve pondered over and feel excited, if not ready, to tackle.

There is a truth I’ve been hiding for some time. You see, I enjoy being seen as modest and not at all intimidating. I’m approachable and friendly. I like to splay my faults out before me so everyone else can relax – my acne has always been tied to this aspect of me. There are times I’ve dressed up, but needed to mess something up a little, or dress down a bit, before I felt comfortable wearing it out in public. When I was young, I dreaded that moment of walking into school the day after getting an amazing haircut. The attention just felt so wrong. I never fantasized about having a big wedding — god no! The idea of that many people staring at me seemed like a cardinal sin.

Why? Today I identified a core belief I’ve been lugging around for ages: I believe that being truly happy in myself depletes from others’ happiness. That self-sacrifice is the crux of pleasing others, making them happy. If I’m getting attention, I’m taking it away from someone else more important.

Over these past few weeks, though, I’ve been musing on sexuality. What is it? What is “sexy”? Unfortunately, the word “sexy” brings to mind a woman in lingerie posed next to a Cosmo article on how to please one’s man. We are so often taught that being sexy is not FOR us. It’s not about doing what we love, what we’re passionate about, what fucking turns us on, and we’re so engaged and involved and sunk so deeply into the creative aspect of ourselves that nothing else matters.

Have you ever seen someone you’ve loved truly in their element?

What is sexier than that? What is more hallowed, holy and awe-inspiring but to witness the MAGNIFICENCE of someone in the universal flow? Willing to surrender their rational mind to trust in whatever Right Now is feeding their soul. In allowing that to be shared with everyone else. Creation is this massively vulnerable thing: to bare our souls to strangers, to anyone who wishes to see. It’s not always the perfectly edited version. Sometimes the most amazing sets are the stripped down, back to basics kind. Where the musician has a hangover and nobody in the band got enough sleep. There isn’t the slick production sound that most albums have. It’s this open, human, grounded thing that and there is no faking it. You can’t fake authenticity.

Tumbling all these thoughts around my brain, I thought, “I want to seduce myself.” I want to think I’m this amazing, sexy, magnificent creature. I want to swoon when I sit down to write, at the intensity of my own communion with the divine. When I channel healing energies through the clothing and jewelery and make up I wear. When I create tonics and

Teal talks about connecting with yourself sexually, masturbating, making love to yourself. But do many of us really feel like connecting with ourselves that deeply, emotionally? Are we just our own fuck buddies or are we lovers? Do we touch ourselves sensually because we feel a nagging urge to “get off” or we find ourselves to be irresistibly gorgeous, intelligent, sexy and talented?

When we’re so concerned with pleasing others, we can easily lose touch with what does turn us on. And when I say, turn us on, I mean the things that make us come alive. That rev our motors. That make us want to get out of bed in the morning. I fully realize that sometimes I’m trying to hard to please others than to keep in touch with what turns me on. I’m ready to reclaim that sense of myself, of finding myself irresistible.

This week, ask yourself the question: What turns me on? and do those things, as much as you can. Flirt with yourself. Write love letters to yourself. Recognize the artistry of your naked body – don’t just thrown clothes on mindlessly, take time to appreciate how they fit you, what feels good on your skin. Realize that you are this glowing, inspiring, powerful being who deserves to be admired, shown off, adored.

That’s what this week is going to be about for me. Seducing myself. Gettin’ down with my bad self. Yeehaw.

I’m shimmying through this project completely at my own pace, which means I get to make the rules, and the rules right now are: I am devoting another week to spending more time with exploring my sexual self. I feel like I’m settling into various aspects of it, and by doing so, healing so many other connects aspects of myself.

Last week I focused on activating the sacral chakra, of awakening that creative, emotional, sexual energy. Using the ClaryCalm essential oil blend and drinking the Women’s Energy tea were some of my favorite aspects – I truly felt like I was nourishing an aspect of myself that I had previously ignored.

This project has been such a fascinating adventure for me. Challenging? Yes. But if I ever tell you I don’t like a challenge, I’m probably just having a pouty, defeated kind of a day. Because oh, how I do love a good challenge. Namely, the ones I’ve pondered over and feel excited, if not ready, to tackle.

There is a truth I’ve been hiding for some time. You see, I enjoy being seen as modest and not at all intimidating. I’m approachable and friendly. I like to splay my faults out before me so everyone else can relax – my acne has always been tied to this aspect of me. There are times I’ve dressed up, but needed to mess something up a little, or dress down a bit, before I felt comfortable wearing it out in public. When I was young, I dreaded that moment of walking into school the day after getting an amazing haircut. The attention just felt so wrong. I never fantasized about having a big wedding — god no! The idea of that many people staring at me seemed like a cardinal sin.

Why? Today I identified a core belief I’ve been lugging around for ages: I believe that being truly happy in myself depletes from others’ happiness. That self-sacrifice is the crux of pleasing others, making them happy. If I’m getting attention, I’m taking it away from someone else more important.

Over these past few weeks, though, I’ve been musing on sexuality. What is it? What is “sexy”? Unfortunately, the word “sexy” brings to mind a woman in lingerie posed next to a Cosmo article on how to please one’s man. We are so often taught that being sexy is not FOR us. It’s not about doing what we love, what we’re passionate about, what fucking turns us on, and we’re so engaged and involved and sunk so deeply into the creative aspect of ourselves that nothing else matters.

Have you ever seen someone you’ve loved truly in their element?

What is sexier than that? What is more hallowed, holy and awe-inspiring but to witness the MAGNIFICENCE of someone in the universal flow? Willing to surrender their rational mind to trust in whatever Right Now is feeding their soul. In allowing that to be shared with everyone else. Creation is this massively vulnerable thing: to bare our souls to strangers, to anyone who wishes to see. It’s not always the perfectly edited version. Sometimes the most amazing sets are the stripped down, back to basics kind. Where the musician has a hangover and nobody in the band got enough sleep. There isn’t the slick production sound that most albums have. It’s this open, human, grounded thing that and there is no faking it. You can’t fake authenticity.

Tumbling all these thoughts around my brain, I thought, “I want to seduce myself.” I want to think I’m this amazing, sexy, magnificent creature. I want to swoon when I sit down to write, at the intensity of my own communion with the divine. When I channel healing energies through the clothing and jewelery and make up I wear. When I create tonics and

Teal talks about connecting with yourself sexually, masturbating, making love to yourself. But do many of us really feel like connecting with ourselves that deeply, emotionally? Are we just our own fuck buddies or are we lovers? Do we touch ourselves sensually because we feel a nagging urge to “get off” or we find ourselves to be irresistibly gorgeous, intelligent, sexy and talented?

When we’re so concerned with pleasing others, we can easily lose touch with what does turn us on. And when I say, turn us on, I mean the things that make us come alive. That rev our motors. That make us want to get out of bed in the morning. I fully realize that sometimes I’m trying to hard to please others than to keep in touch with what turns me on. I’m ready to reclaim that sense of myself, of finding myself irresistible.

This week, ask yourself the question: What turns me on? and do those things, as much as you can. Flirt with yourself. Write love letters to yourself. Recognize the artistry of your naked body – don’t just thrown clothes on mindlessly, take time to appreciate how they fit you, what feels good on your skin. Realize that you are this glowing, inspiring, powerful being who deserves to be admired, shown off, adored.

That’s what this week is going to be about for me. Seducing myself. Gettin’ down with my bad self. Yeehaw.

Ok, y’all. Let’s get real. I dropped the ball for a minute there, huh? I mean, it’s now almost Friday and I’m just now getting to this. Here is a thing that happens: We miss a “deadline”, or something we told ourselves we’d do. We made some sort of commitment to it. Then, we missed it. We fucked up. It keeps staring us in the face. Maybe we’re still really busy, maybe we’re not, but regardless, sometimes we just stuck in that place of feeling shitty for not upholding our end of the agreement.

That’s what happened here. And it’s no big deal, and I still love myself, but cranking this blog post out has been like pulling teeth. I have been busy, but I’ve also been putting it off. Ok, I feel better just getting that one out there, right off the bat.

Sometimes, I can get overly academic about these things. But the thing is…I’m tackling this stuff as a novice, not as a seasoned teacher. Not as someone who can tell you, oh yes, she has fully and entirely embraced her Divine Feminine. I’m working on it, like all of you.

The sensuality aspect? Awesome. I did abhyanga oil massage each day, I paid special attention to the food I ate, I wore essential oils each day, I redecorated my room. The room redecorating, while minor, was big. It felt awesome. I have had a huge block over doing that, and finally doing it was like smashing through a big wall and seeing to the other side.

The sexuality aspect? Well, I am taking Viktoriya Kosta‘s course on Healing the Sacral Chakra. It just so happens that last week was all about taking a pause from sexual habits and patterns, to enjoy sensuality without having to “take it somewhere”. So, I did what felt right and stuck with that.

I am now working on activating my sacral chakra more and more intentionally. Watch my video for ideas on how to do this for yourself and I’ll list the things I am doing every day below:

-Abhyanga oil massage

-Carrying around / sleeping with an orange Carnelian stone under my pillow

Week 2 of the Divine Feminine Project was full of exploring creation in my life. I danced and wrote, often free writing, allowing expression without (too much) judgment. As the week wore on, I encountered what felt like vicious blocks to my creation. I felt old self-judgments and patterns rear. As I faced my demons, I remembered this: Above all, we are to be true to ourselves, to allow our worlds to expand, rather than contract.

I’m going to be honest: This week, I didn’t keep up my creative bargain with myself perfectly. I did not dance and / or write every day. A few days I woke up later than usual, with a head ache, congestion, feeling worried and weighed down. Rather than forcing myself into something just for the sake of completion, I practiced compassion. I worked on loving myself. Why force myself to dance if what I needed then was sleep?

I also expanded my ideas of creativity. We are constantly creating our reality, everything around us. What are things we do, often mindlessly, out of habit? These things are crying out for the magic of attention, the alchemy that happens when a little love is given. I recognized that although making food is such a basic function, it is an art! It’s something we can easily put thought, love and attention into.

Last night I attended a women’s Red Tent meeting in my area. I encourage all of you to look these up and see if there’s one in your area. If there’s not, why not start one? Even a small one, with a few friends coming together to honor one another.

Alright, so…deep breath… We’re moving on to Week Three! I celebrate each and every one of you. Even if so far, you’ve only thought about the divine feminine. Maybe you’ve changed one thing. Anything and everything is celebrated in this sacred circle! We honor and celebrate your beauty and your work.

Week Three: Exploring Our Sensuality. At about 14:30 of her Awakening the Divine Feminine video, Teal talks about how the very essence of divine feminine is beauty incarnate and the importance of beautifying our surroundings. She suggests not only decorating our spaces, but taking bubble baths, using fragrances we like…anything that connects us to existence on that level that transcends the mere utilitarian.

Teal also talks about exploring sexuality, that we need to find sexual pleasure within ourselves. She recommends the book “Getting Off” by Jamye Waxman for any of us who may need some guidance in this area.

Let’s start with some questions to explore these topics:

1. How can I allow more beauty into my life?

How do I create beauty in the space around me? Is it time to redecorate to reflect this more fully?

How do I reflect beauty in the clothes, fragrances, hairstyles, etc. that I wear? When I do these things, what is my intention?

2. How can I begin to explore my own sexuality?

What are my attitudes to my own sexuality / sexual pleasure? Where do these originate? How would I like these to change?

How can I embrace and nourish my sexual self?

This week I will begin by a free write on these topics, allowing everything and anything to come up without judgment. If this is the first time you’re working with these topics, just remember: there’s no pressure. Simply allowing these themes to soften you, open you up, to move you, is such an exciting step in and of itself. Celebrate your openness to even think about these things!

You might begin by incorporating these themes into every day activities: If you’re cooking a meal, how might you enjoy it sensually? If you’re smelling a flower, allow yourself to be fully present and enjoy that medicine the flower gives you. Pay attention to textures, scents, tastes, sounds. Allow your senses to engage you in the magic of the world around you.

Watch my youtube video to hear more on my thoughts on this week’s focus.

Beautiful goddess, shakti essence, imbue me with your divine sensuality. Allow me to embrace the magic in all of my senses. Empower me to own my creative, sexual energy, to connect with my power here on this physical realm. A-women!

This week, for the Divine Feminine Project, I have been focusing on creation. On dancing, on expression. Something interesting happens when we play with creation: we stir up the old, the stuckness, the sludge that kept us back. That lethargy. That feeling of inability to get out of our chair, bed, to get up and move, create, sing, dance. Suddenly it’s in our face. It’s taunting us. Threatening to push us back down, force our heads under the water. And in that moment, we get to decide. We get to allow the momentum of our fears to overcome us, or to don warrior paint, to fly into battle, to dissolve the ego, to tear down the old and make room for the new.

An integral part of creation is destruction. Sometimes we need to delve into the depths of our beings, into the fucked up areas of ourselves, to emerge with that inner fire, that drive, the inability to sit, complacent.

I am not willing to be a pushover. I am not interested in being analyzed or handed out Freudian theories as my party favor for participating in this life. I demand respect. I demand, from the deepest essence of my being, to sound my voice. The guttural growl, the primal scream, the self that gets stuffed down, glossed over, tamed and bound. Fuck the “good girl” archetype. If you call me a good girl I will bite your goddamn nose off! I will not submit to your every wish. I’m not your genie, your prop, your ornamental jewelry. I am not here to make you look good. I am here to exist, to kindle the fire in my belly, I am here to live instinctually. It will be messy. I will spill blood from the depths of my being. I will cry and laugh and howl at the inappropriate times. No amount of biblical references, witch burning or body shaming can subdue me.

I am owning my wildness.

Warrior Kali, ignite the fiery burning in my belly. Give me the strength to live fully, destroying all false sense of self. Help me to reclaim the WILD essence of me. Allow me to rage, to destruct, to unleash the beast whose voice needs to be heard. Guide my blade as I eviscerate feelings of meekness, fear and doubt.